


Imperfect Polyphony

by voleuse



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-02
Updated: 2007-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Waiting for the closing cadence, a harbinger of your distraction</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfect Polyphony

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3.09. Title and summary adapted from Jane Gibian's _Suspended_.

Lee couldn't decide if he had found Kara a constant irritation before or after he had fallen in love with her. Sometimes the two were inextricable, the impulse to kiss her entwined with the desire to throw her in hack and give Tigh the key.

From across the hangar bay, she smiled at him, and the flush of joy was like acid in his veins.

*

 

Calendars weren't worth anything but forgotten sunrises and lost hopes, but when the approximate date of Saturnalia rolled in, Lee woke up in the brig to Kara's grin, bright and secret as Hestia.

"Fair's fair," she cackled, and dropped the key outside of the bars, three feet beyond his reach.

It took him two hours and a disassembled cot before he freed himself, because naturally, nobody was assigned to guard an empty cell.

The pilots wouldn't name names, so Lee endured an afternoon of jokes about Starbuck slinging him over her shoulder before breakfast, like a mother, or a goddess, or both.

Kara herself was notably absent from briefings, meals, and card games. He didn't consider where else she might be, or with who else. Instead, he plotted.

Fair was fair, after all.

*

 

The next time Kara swung her locker door open, Lee shut off the lights and grabbed her around the waist. He knew she recognized him, because she shrieked instead of jamming him in the kidneys, and tickling her was much more interesting when she was wearing only a towel.

She pushed him against the bank of lockers, and he tangled his hands in her hair. She tasted like cheap coffee and New Caprican soap.

Backwards, stumbling, he guided her back to the showers, laughed as she twisted the knob and drenched him, uniform and all. Her towel dropped to the tile, and he knelt before her, his mind reeling through a list of all the things he could give to her, and all the things he could never dare.


End file.
